Hailey
At night, as I sat alone in my room, wondering why every single one of his words felt true, time seemed to stop. His voice echoed in my head, relentless, but worse-his eyes.
They hadn’t looked like they were lying.
Then why had he ignored me?
Why had he made me feel like shit?
I knew he had the answers. I also knew he wouldn’t give them to me. Damien Black was a strange specimen-impossible to read. He had walls so high, so impenetrable, that nothing could reach him. And I? I fell into the category of nothing.
No matter what-I still didn’t know Damien Black.
He was still an enigma.
Frustration gnawed at me until I couldn’t take it anymore. I shoved the blankets off and stood. My body moved before my mind could reason with it, leading me straight to his room. I needed answers. Without them, I wouldn’t be able to sleep-just like I hadn’t for the past two nights.
He had royally screwed me over. And I hated him for that.
God, I wished I hated everything about him.
But fuck, I didn’t. Not even close.
I reached his door and knocked. No response.
I knocked again.
Still nothing.
Was this piece of shit sleeping soundly after completely wrecking my sleep schedule?
Anger flared through me, and when I noticed the door was slightly ajar, I took full advantage. Sliding inside, I found him exactly as I expected-comfortably tucked under the sheets. Well, his lower half was.
He didn’t fucking deserve comfort.
I stormed over to the bed, fully intending to rip the blanket off him, but then-I stopped.
My breath caught.
My heart, quite literally, skipped a beat.
My mouth went dry at the sight.
He lay on his stomach, one arm tucked beneath the pillow, his breathing deep and steady. The sheets clung to his lower body, but as if he were too warm, he shifted just slightly, kicking them down to his calves.
And suddenly, there he was-his toned back, all lean muscle and smooth skin, tapering down into the black boxer briefs that hung low on his hips.
Heat flooded my face, but still, I moved closer, standing right beside his king-sized bed.
His face was turned toward me, peaceful in sleep, completely unaware of my presence.
Did the devil look this human too?
It was strange to see this man this vulnerable. Did he dream? Maybe not.
Subconsciously, my fingers reached for his face-beautiful, tempting, dangerously close. But before they could graze his skin, they found his hair first. Soft. Silky. I brushed through it, savoring the feel before my fingertips trailed lower, grazing his cheek, moving toward his lips-
And suddenly, I was on my back.
A strong hand wrapped around my throat.
My chest heaved as I stared up at Damien, now straddling my hips, his grip firm but not suffocating. His darkened eyes studied me, flickering with something almost unreadable.
Damien Black-confused?
If I had known this was even remotely possible, I would have added it to my Christmas wishlist.
“Fuck, Hailey,” he growled, releasing my throat abruptly. He braced one arm beside my head, the other running down his face in frustration before dropping it harshly onto the mattress. “I could have fucking hurt you.”
I should have been shaken, maybe even scared, but I wasn’t. Instead, I was staring at him, transfixed.
He looked deadly in a way that was… erotic.
Hell, all he had to do was stand like this in front of any woman, and she’d willingly drop to her knees, suck his dick and let him fuck them like a whore.
I bit down on my lip, fighting the urge to let my gaze wander to the sculpted ridges of his chest. “You already did, brother.”
The word was as sweet as poison, and just as I expected, his face twisted in irritation. Good.
But he didn’t take the bait. Instead, he pressed his hands on either side of my face and leaned in, his body heat radiating into mine.
He was so close. Too close.
“It was never about that,” he whispered, his voice still edged with something dark, but his eyes… sincere. “I’m sorry for how it made you feel. That was never my intention.”
“Then what was it?” I demanded-softer than I meant to.
Damn it. I hated how weak this man made me feel.
Damien exhaled, pulling away just slightly, just enough to see me better. “I can’t tell you that,” he admitted, voice quieter this time. “It’s for me. I can’t tell you-for my own sake.” He hesitated, just for a second, before adding, “So I can keep being who I am.”
That didn’t make sense.
And yet, if I let my mind wander, let my imagination stretch-I understood.
Cold. Aloof. Heartless. Crude.
That’s what he wanted to be. That’s what he needed to be.
“Why?” I whispered, searching his gaze. “Why would you want to be someone you might not even be?”
His expression hardened instantly. Whatever sliver of softness was there-gone.
“I answered your question,” he said, his tone clipped. “I even apologized for what I did.” His gaze darkened. “But don’t push your luck, Bunny.”
“Fucking devil,” I muttered under my breath, pushing against him to get up.
But before I could leave, his hand was on my throat again.
And in the next breath, he slammed me back onto the bed.
I gasped, his face now just a hair’s breadth from mine, his eyes drilling into me-stripping me bare.
I should have known better before coming here.
“And yet,” he whispered, lips curving into a slow, wicked smirk, “you walked into the Devil’s room in the middle of the night… without thinking of the consequences.”
His fingers traced a path down my shoulder, tugging my spaghetti strap lower. Slowly. Deliberately.
Lower.
His touch slid over my arm, ghosting down my wrist before trailing to my hips. His fingertips pressed into my bare skin, drawing slow, taunting circles.
A warning.
A promise.
And I knew-this was far from over.
I drew in a sharp breath, parting my lips to speak-
But he beat me to it.
“Naive, aren’t we?” His voice was husky, thick with smoldering heat. His eyes burned, dark and unreadable, and his skin-God, his skin-felt too warm against mine, his heat sinking into me, chasing away my cold.
I loved the feel of him.
I loved the way he breathed.
He was just so… majestic.
“Move away from… from me,” I whispered, my voice trembling, my heart hammering so hard I was sure he could hear it.
“Why?” His thumb traced my lower lip, slow, deliberate. “Are you afraid, Bunny?”
I didn’t know what to say.
And when my lips parted to pull in a shallow breath, desperate to compose myself-
He pushed his thumb into my mouth.
My traitorous mouth closed around it. Instinctively. Without hesitation.
Horror struck me the second I realized what I had done. My hands shot up, grasping his wrist to shove him away, but he didn’t budge. Instead, he slid his thumb out, achingly slow, dragging the wetness across my lips.
A tremor ripped through me.
My nipples tightened, my thighs clenched, my pussy dampened. I felt the heat between my legs intensify, the dampness pooling beneath me. The need crawling up my spine, sinking into my skin.
I wanted this man so much it hurt.
And right now, I could only see one way to save my sanity-
To let him have his way with me before I ended up begging for it.
Because knowing Damien, even just a little, I knew he would make me beg if I resisted, if I defied him, if I acted even a little tougher than I actually was.
“So…” I exhaled, biting my lip. “It really wasn’t for what I thought?”
The corner of his mouth almost twitched, as if he could see right through me.
As if he knew the desire burning under my skin.
As if he could feel how much I wanted him.
How much I craved him. Every inch of him.
“No, Hailey,” he murmured, brushing his lips against mine before pressing a kiss to my jaw. His fingers tightened around my throat, firm but not restricting, his breath hot against my ear as he whispered, “It wasn’t.”
Another shuddering breath escaped me, my body betraying me at every turn.
I hated him.
I hated him for making me feel like this.
For making me want him like this.
But mostly-I hated that I didn’t hate him at all.
“And you’re not going to do that again?” I asked, forcing the words out.
“No, Hailey,” he said simply.
His voice was steady. Serious.
And when he met my gaze, the last sliver of doubt I had melted away.
A small smile tugged at my lips. I studied him for a moment, “You’re pretty,” my fingers lifting to brush over his chest, tracing a slow path down his abs. When my nails dug in, he sucked in a breath, a low, restrained groan slipping past his lips.
“Hailey,” he warned, voice guttural, animalistic. “I might not be able to hold back if you keep doing that.”
The beast lurking beneath his skin-he was fighting it.
And I wanted to bring it out.
“Then…” I whispered, leaning in, my lips grazing his. My hands moved around him-one sliding to his lower back, the other tangling into the dark strands of his hair, “Don’t.”
“You call me the devil,” he growled, his restraint snapping. “But you fucking put me through hell.”
And with that, he slammed his lips against mine.